


Drifting Part II: Among us.

by skinsuit



Series: drifting [2]
Category: Gravity Falls, Rick & Morty
Genre: M/M, Mental Health Issues, Reality E-937, TW: drug use, stanchez
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2018-08-15 09:46:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8051596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinsuit/pseuds/skinsuit
Summary: A year and half after Stan and Rick parted company in New Jersey. Stan wakes up in a strange bed, in a small town called Milworth. And once more Rick has drifted into his life, this time as his belligerent  savior. But why is Rick here, what does Milworth have to with Rick's past and what is he doing in the cellar?





	1. Chapter 1

Stan woke with a start, he found he was in a sunny bedroom lying on soft sheets with comfy pillows and a olive colored top blanket. The walls of the room were white and there was wooden chest of drawers with gold knobs directly in front of him with a dolly on it. The sun was coming in from the east and it was pretty high in the sky so it must be before noon. The room smelled slightly musty. He wondered how the hell he got here, he couldn’t exactly remember the last couple of months. He tried to figure out how he got here, or where here was exactly. His right wrist itched, he scratched it and felt something around it, a plastic bracelet. It listed a name that wasn’t his a bunch, a date of birth that wasn’t his either, and a bunch of numbers he couldn’t understand. Where was Carla? She’d been with him for a year and half… he tried to remember. The images that flashed through his head were terrible, confusing, and the bit with the vibrating shapeshifting dragons must have been a hallucination. He tried harder, memories bubbled up from the bottom of his mind. Carla… there was guy Thistledown he played guitar? He had long blond hair and a beard… Carla wearing bell bottoms…. Them blasting off in rainbow…. Carla telling him it was for his own good, a look in her eyes, distant, hard, and cold. She was above him and they were holding him down on a table… his arms and legs… he couldn’t kick or punch. He could still feel …the pinch of a needle in his arm… then everything became ..began… oh god… so much worse. He heard himself scream, he was clutching his head, it hurt so bad to remember. He cried, he didn’t want to but it came seeping out like leaking sewage. He took deep breaths, gulping down air. After a while of just sitting and listening to his heartbeat he calmed down. He wiped his eyes and got up, he was in blue stripped pajamas and there were maroon slippers on the carpet when he got up. He itched his plastic bracelet and tried to figure out where he was. The room had no pictures on the walls and the closet was filled with old clothing that smelled like mothballs. He looked out the window, outside were rolling green hills, a dirt road looping through them, and a blue sky overhead... so not the southwest, other than that he had no clue. Last he recalled he was in Texas with… Carla. Was this still Texas?

He opened the door and found himself in a narrow hallway, the floor was wood, the wallpaper was off white and floral patterned. There was art on the wall, mostly dull landscapes and black & white photographs of people he didn’t know. Though there was one of a woman with a sullen expression and slightly messy dark hair that looked familiar. He saw stairs at the far end of the hall and heard the sound of someone down there. But there were other rooms in the hallway, one was locked, the other two were dusty and unused guest rooms, their furnishings covered with white sheets. He considered picking the lock, but he had no tools and no heavy rock. He decided it would be better to go down stairs and see what was going on.  
He walked down the stairs, he found himself in a living room. The drop clothes had been removed here, the furniture was old but well cared for, dark wood and faded peach colored upholstery. There was a tv at the end of the room and shelves on the wall with various knickknacks. Beyond this was the kitchen and other rooms (How many rooms did a person need? These people must be loaded) He could smell bacon frying, he went directly to the kitchen. Beige tiles, wood paneled walls, small wooden table, cabinets, all the standard kitchen things. Standing in the front of a white stove was a woman. She was plump, her brown hair short and sensible, she was in a green dress with an apron tied around it. She turned around at his footsteps. She was middle-aged and cheerful looking. 

“You’re up and about, finally.” She said warmly, “Rich said the drugs would wear off about today.”

“Where am I? Who are you? Who’s Rich?” He asked.

Her smile widened, “Why you’re in Milworth, I’m Mrs. Paterson and you already know Rich.” 

“Where is Milworth?” He asked.

“About two hours west of Albany,” She said sucking her lower lip. “We’re kinda in the middle of nowhere.”

“Which Albany?” He asked suspiciously

“Albany, New York of course!” She said. 

“Oh.” He sighed. Had he been banned in this state? Maybe? However they were in the middle of nowhere and he was under the name Andrew Alcatraz. He brightened up. “Whatcha makin’?”

“BLTs,” she said smiling. “Rich has always loved his BLTs, ever since he was kid, back when Mr. and Mrs. Van Der Aart, were still with us.”

“Who?” 

“Rich’s grandparents! They owned this house, well now it’s been passed on to Lawrence, but he never comes up from Manhattan. I was so glad that Rich came back and hired me back as housekeeper.” She said. 

Stan was wondering who Rich was, when in the far corner the basement door banged open and Rick came tromping up, “Hey Mrs. P didja get any beer?”

“Yes, Rich it’s in the fridge.” She said chopping tomatoes.

“Thanks.” He said and opened the fridge. “Awww Old Canoe, that stuff fuckin’ terrible.”

Mrs. Paterson sighed. “It was only one left at the store.”

Rick turned and noticed Stan for the first time. “HEY! You’re awake!” he grabbed another can of beer from the fridge. 

He sat down at the table and gestured for Stan join him. The beer was cool and as terrible as Rick said, maybe it was bad beer, but then again, it was cold and alcoholic so not all that bad. Mrs. Patterson had made two BLTs, they ate and she left the room.

“Why is she calling you Rich any how? What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

Rick was eating a bite of his BLT and holding up a finger, as if to say wait. He chewed swallowed, took a sip of beer. “Slow down Pines, w-w-what do you do want to know?”

“Why the fuck does she think you’re Rich Van Der Aart?”

“It’s an alias, Stan.”

“Why are we here?”

“It’s my maternal grandparent’s house. They were the Van Der Aarts.”

 

“How did you get me from Texas?”

“Fuckin’ forgery. You should be grateful, you were in a nuthouse jacked up on Thorazine and you d-d-didn’t know asshole from breakfast.”

“Real nice alias there, you’re childhood nickname and your mother’s maiden name. They’ll never find us this way.” Stan said sarcastically

“’They aren’t looking for us, the asylum I took you from was overcrowded, ’they’ won’t miss you. Milworth is in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere. No one will find us and no one is looking for us, or you. Don’t be so fuckin’ paranoid, Pines.”

“Hey, I’m not being paranoid, there are people out to get me, Sanchez.” Stan said taking another sip of beer and bite of the sandwich. 

“Coulda fooled me, you were drooling in a madhouse, no one cared. Who the fuck knows why I sprung you.” Rick said. 

“Why were you in an asylum in Texas?” Stan asked 

“I needed test subjects and the hobos kept running away. The head of psych knew me from MIT.” Rick sighed. 

“If you’re grandparents were loaded why were you hustling?” Stan asked suspiciously. 

“The money is in a trust and I get it when I turn 25.” Rick said rolling his eyes. 

“Why did the housekeeper call you Rich?” Stan asked.

“Because, that’s what they call me here, it’s an alias.” Rick said in a cold tense way. 

“A weak one.” Stan replied.

“ Yeah, sounds too WASPy for me,” Rick said. “But Gran and Pops used to call me Rich.”

Stan ate his sandwich and took a gulp of the beer. “Van Der aart?”

“That was Mom shitting on my Dad after she got custody.” Rick said bitterly. “She was good at that.”

Stan had almost finished the BLT, he decided raising the subject would get him punched. Rick was eating his and not looking up.

“So what are you doing in the basement?”

“None of your business, Pines.”

“Sorry I asked.” Stan groused. 

 

Rick gulped down the beer and gobbled up the sandwich, and walked off back to into the basement. Stan heard Mrs. Patterson vacuuming some part of the house, Stan decided to watch tv in the living room. Two hours North of Albany meant the TV signals were weak, the daytime soap operas and The Price Is Right dissolved into fuzz. Mrs. Patterson left after saying a cheery good bye that Stan barely acknowledged, she’d also made them dinner, iit was in the fridge but they could warm it up in the oven. Stan felt himself getting heavy with sleep, he closed his eyes, just to rest them. He woke up with a start, a shout on his lips from nightmares he couldn’t remember but felt echoing inside him viscerally. The room was dark and the crickets were chirping outside, he heard Rick banging around the house somewhere, got up and went off to find him. Darkness in the country was like the blackness of some deep mine shaft, compared to the mere dimness of the city. Stan banged his shins on a few end tables and things before finding a wall. Keeping a steady hand on it he was able to feel his way out into the hallway where he could hear Rick’s off key mumbled singing and see yellow light coming from under the kitchen door. Stan’s eyes had adjusted to the point where he could see his way to the kitchen. He opened the door. Rick was sitting at the cleared off table, methodically making lines of some white powder. 

“Hey, Sanchez.”

“Yeah?” Rick looked up.

“Whatcha got there, coke?” 

“Naw, it’s speed. Wanna do a some lines with me?”

Stan shrugged. “Eh, I got nothing better to do.”  
He sat down at the kitchen table. Doing lines of speed was like being zapped with amazing electricity, also it left a distinctive salty taste in the back of Stan’s throat. Meanwhile they chatted about bullshit, it didn’t matter. Suddenly Stan could feel his heart jack hammering in his chest, he looked at his hands, they were shaking slightly. 

“Whoa…” Stan said.

“Y-y-yeah I know Pines, isn’t it fucking amazing?” Rick said speaking rapidly.

“”I think that’s enough for me, ‘Rich’.” Stan said getting up.

“What are you some kind of pussy?” Rick came back with.

“No, I’m high as fuck and I think I’ll die if I do more of this crank.” Stan said. “I’m done.”

He turned to leave and walk out the door.

“CHICKEN! CHICKEN!” Rick shouted at his back.

No one called Stan Pines a chicken, he’d show that skinny motherfucker! Stan spun around and dove over the kitchen table, tackling Rick to the kitchen linoleum with a roar. He had Rick underneath him, one beefy arm pushing Rick’s sideways against the kitchen floor.

“You think you’re so tough, just cuz you got me pinned down?” Rick sneered.

“Uh yeah.” Stan replied. “I overpowered you.” Geez, his heart just kept jackhammering away, the seconds ticked by, Rick muttered under his breath. Stan’s shoulder itched, damned mosquitoes, he reached up to scratch it and Rick bit his other hand. Stan yelped and drew back. Rick jerked upwards ramming his forehead into Stan’s chin, hard. Stan cursed and backed up.

“That’s what you get, Pines!” Rick spat as he leapt to his feet, fists out.

“Fuck you crazy son of a bitch.” Stan yelled and put up his fists as well.

 

Rick swung, Stan dodged edged closer and grabbed Rick by the shoulder, drawing his arm back to slam into Rick’s face.

“That’s what you want isn’t it?” Rick said with a leer.

Stan looked deep into Rick’s grey eyes, He pulled Rick into his arms and brutally kissed him, all teeth and tongues, hot and sweaty. His heart was pounding in his ear and he was as hard as railroad spike. Rick ground hungrily against him.  
“You want it?” Stan asked.

“Yeah,” Rick breathed in his ear.

Stan took Rick by the back of the neck and bent him over the kitchen table. Rick already had his pants around his ankles when Stan unzipped. He took Rick hard against that table, hands wrapped around Rick’s neck, driving it home as the table shook in rhythm with Rick grunting. Neither of them could come because of the speed buzzing around in their veins, neither one of them wanted to stop either. They did it on the living room sofa spooning like lovers, they did it on the stairs, and they did it twice in the master bedroom where Rick slept, a huge clunky air conditioner blasting arctic air over them as Rick mounted and rode Stan furiously. That last time left them sore all over when they finally got release. The speed was starting to wear off, Stan felt tiredness hit him like a wave. Rick was already snoring deep, deep asleep. When Stan snuck out of the master bedroom and made his way back to his own room. He was so tired he just dropped off to sleep as soon he was in his own bed.


	2. Chapter 2

Stan was half awake, when he felt someone tug the blankets down. Someone’s hot, wet mouth was around his cock, and their tongue was caressing his shaft. He could almost see her brown hair tumbling down over her shoulders, her big brown eyes staring up at him.  
“Mmmmm Carla…” He muttered dreamily.

The blow job stopped and harsh male voice spat back. “Carla?! What the hell, Pines?”

Stan opened his eyes, at his waist was the glaring over Stan’s erection was the face of Rick Sanchez.

“Oh, Rick, I forgot, why’d you stop?” Stan said.

“Do I really have to answer that?” Rick said.

“Oh yeah,” Stan blushed. “Sorry?”

“I bet your little girlfriend didn’t even suck cock like I can Pines.” Rick snarled getting up form the bed.

Stan’s erection was fading and he pulled the covers up. “Sheesh, I was with her a year what do you expect?”

“Some fucking gratitude.” Rick said and stomped out of the room slamming the door behind him.  
In a little while Stan had dressed and down in the kitchen, it was neat like nothing of the debauchery of last night happened. Mrs. Patterson smiled when she saw him. She was washing dishes in the sink.

“Hi there how do you like your eggs and toast?” She said, stepping away from the sink and wiping her hands on a dish towel.

“Uhhh over easy and almost burnt,” Stan said.

“Gotcha.” she replied with a wink.

She moseyed over to the other counter and started making him breakfast. She really was a pretty good cook Stan mused as he ate. Also he was bored.

“Where’s Rick, I mean Rich?” He asked

“Oh he’s in the cellar working his project. He said no one can else can go down there not even to clean,” Mrs. Patterson said.

“Anything I can do around the house?” Stan asked. He normally hated chores, but it beat sitting around watching fuzzy tv.

“Well, I guess the lawn needs mowing, and maybe set out some poison for the mice in the attic.” Ms Patterson said putting her chin in her hand.

“Sure.” Stan nodded.

Stan decided the lawn could wait until it cooled down that evening. For now he’d go to attic with the rat poison, Mrs. Patterson gave him and deal with the vermin and a flash light. He found the trap door to the attic on the second floor near the back of the hallway, he pulled a string attached to it and it opened up, a small wooden ladder slid out. He climbed up into the attic, The air up here was stuffy under the eaves among the pink insulation. He casually sprinkled the poison in the nooks and crannies. He wasn’t here to poison vermin, he needed to find out about Rick and his family. He opened the first cardboard box he found, which turned out to be christmas decorations, the second box was winter clothes and mothballs and so on. Was there nothing? Had Rick already been up here and destroyed everything? Then he stumbled on an old accordion file folder in it was a certificate of marriage, in spanish between Viola Ernestine Van der arrt and Hernando Christopher Sanchez. From what Stan could make out it was from San Juan, in Puerto Rico. There was an old black and white photograph That young woman, heavily pregnant of the dark messy hair, scowling in a wedding dressing next to a older Tall, thin faced, balding bespectacled man with smiling wearily in a suit. He could see the resemblance to Rick in both of them. There were other photos: Viola holding a dark haired infant. Viola, Hernando, a toddler shirtless Rick and an older woman on a tropical beach. Then nothing, more papers something in legalese Stan and no patience for and photographs of Rick a little older maybe four heavily tanned, glaring into the camera as he twisted in his mother’s arms, she was paler. They were in heavy winter clothes. A Christmas picture all the Van der aarrts gathered near a decorated tree, Viola looking haggard, Rick still four the same age, paler, hair slicked back, and still seething with anger. Stan looked back at papers, what he could make out is that Viola Van Der Arrt was getting custody of her four year old son. An old photo album of Rick’s boyhood followed. There were a few images of him his Father, Mother and an old lady labeled as ‘Abuela Sanchez’ in Puerto Rico. In these toddler Rick was shirtless mess haired and very tan he looked happy. The images of Rick from four and up didn’t look happy, (expect in one album labeled summer memories. Which showed Rick or ‘Rich’ in this house. out on the lawn or splashing in a creek). Most the of the pictures Rick was surrounded by grown ups in suits and his mother who was grinning in a forced way. Rick the boy always looked angry, or exhausted or resigned in these pictures, a few of them had that psycho Doug Blevins in them. Stan shoved them aside, he explored another box, that was mostly full of spiral ring binders with scribbled mathematical formula, diagrams, and loads of paperwork. And a framed diploma from MIT, saying that Richard Van der arrt was graduating Suma Cum laude. Stan looked at the date, Rick must have been about seven or eight when he received this. Stan found a few other diplomas, same deal. And loads old paperwork, he couldn’t understand it, so he pushed it aside. Maybe it was time to scatter more rat poison. It was hot and stuffy in here after all, maybe going out on the mow might be better, get some fresh air. That’s when he tripped over a box labeled in a scrawling hand: ‘Vi’s diaries (1956 -1970).’ Maybe this would shed some light on whoever Rick was. So Stan carried the heavy box down from the attic and hid it under his bed. It was still mid-afternoon, well better mow that lawn. The lawn was huge, wished he had a tractor or something kind of riding mower as the sun beat down, he sweat and reddened under it. Sometime in the middle he took off his shirt.Around three Mrs. Patterson came out with a ham sandwich and tall cold beer. Yeah it was old Canoe, the worst, cheapest beer, but on a day like this the very fact it was cold, light and beer made it perfect for the sweltering heat.The lawn was done at four. The sun still high in the sky, Stan slunk off to the shower cuz he stunk worse than a goat. Stan knew this because he’d met some goats out on that Peace Ascendant Family commune when he was out in Texas with Carla… under the cold water of the shower, it was okay to cry no one could tell. He’d blocked out the memory after he got out the shower, about an hour later later. The hi-fi speakers down stairs boomed with rock music, which meant one thing, Mrs. P was gone and Rick was out from the basement. Stan toweled off and put on a clean pair of shorts and a tank top. Rick was scarfing down dinner, hardly looking up, a protective arm looped around his dinner. Stan could see the remains of potato salad, baked beans and baked chicken thighs with some kinda herbs on them. The potato salad, wasn’t cold, the beans and chicken weren’t hot but it was food and Stan wasn’t about to complain about a free meal.  
He sat down and began to eat.

“Find anything good?” Rick said.

Stan choked on his food sputtering, he drank some water and finally swallowed, coming up with a gasp. “What do you mean, Rick?”

“Mrs. P said you were putting down poison for the mice in the attic. So I f-f-figured you dug up a bunch of shit about me.” Rick said, He leant back in his chair, pulled out a zippo and lit a joint.

“Nothing…” Stan Lied. “Just a bunch of junk up there.”

Rick rolled his eyes. “Yeah sure.” Rick oozed sarcasm.

“Fine.. fine I found out you were some kind of boy genius who graduated all these fancy-ass schools before your balls even dropped.” Stan said. “Can I have a toke?”

Rick passed him the joint. “Look, it wasn’t my idea, my Mom always thought she was soooo smart, despite the fact she was only slightly above average, when she found out about me, she saw her ticket for academic glory.”

Stan took a hit, he was feeling better. “So that’s why she got custody from your Dad.”

“Heh, Naw… that her way of shitting on him. She didn’t even really want me. “ Rick sighed. “Ya know, when you’re a kid and you’re really happy? Yeah, that was Puerto Rico for me with my Dad and my Abuela. I’d just ya know run around, half naked and do kid shit, build my own toys… radios…and blow up stuff,hang out with other kids, maybe play a game. But she had to come and take it away, cuz she was shitting on my Dad. It was downhill from there…Pines.”

He passed the joint, Stan took a hit. “So you were only really happy when you like four?”

“Yep.” Rick sighed and giggled. He took a hit, passed it

Stan took a hit, passed it back. “Yeesh.” Stan sighed. “It all ended for me, at 17, I thought me and my brother we’d be together forever, but he decided he wanted nothing to do with a dum-dum like me.” 

“I only have two degrees, in case you’re wondering. I decided if they were gonna try make me act like trained monkey, I might as w-w-well fling shit.” Rick said. “School sucks, it’s not a place for smart people, Stan.”  
They finished the joint. Minutes ticked by of them sitting there stoned, not talking. 

“Yeah…. Whadda you wanna do now?”

“Bonfire.”

“Really this early?”

“Yeah, I wanna see things burn!”

…heh, right. Want me to get it started?”

“……yep…..”

“Right, I’ll go get some wood, Sanchez.”

So Stan stumbled out into the summer evening, it was still light, but the sun was lazily making it’s way down. There was a wood pile in the back of the house. He dragged out downed branches, cut logs and kindling, piled it high and recklessly. He took the gas can from the mower gave it douse and used his own zippo to set it on fire. It went up with an all mighty ‘whoosh!’ Stan laughed and watched the flames burn feeling floaty, giggly and high. Rick was no where in sight. Stan didn’t care he just sat back watched the fire and listened to music blare from inside the house. Rick came down from the house with a big cardboard box and began chucking things in the fire. Stan went over to the box and pulled something out to throw in the fire. Then he noticed what it was: Rick’s diploma from MIT. He stopped dead. 

“Rick, sure you wanna get rid of this stuff?” Stan asked cradling the diploma.

“Yeah it burn Pines!” Rick. 

When Stan heisted Rick ripped it out of his hands and threw it on the bonfire. 

“FUCK EVERYTHING! THAT’S FOR RUINING MY CHILDHOOD, FUCKIN’ BITCH!”  
Rick screamed.

“Uh, Sanchez?”

Rick glared at Stan: “WHAT?!”

“…what did you do besides pot?”

Rick continued glaring at Stan, Stan looked away.

“You wouldn’t understand….” Rick mumbled. “That fucking bitch, she thought I owed the world because of ‘my gift’. All she wanted was second hand glory.”

Stan sighed. “Fine it ya makes to feel better to burn this stuff. I never was much in the old brains department myself.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. “ Rick rolled his eyes and took a new box and began throwing things into the fire. Stan glanced at it and realized with horror that it was Vi’s diaries.

“You went in my room!” Stan hollered.

“You went through the attic trying to dig up dirt on me!” Rick retorted. He took an armful of the diaries and chucked them in the bonfire. “Well, you ain’t that clever Pines! And You’re not snooping on my past and my life! I could have left you. I should have, you know what, No one else seems to want you!”

Rick took the entire box and flung into the heart of the fire.  
Stan turned away. “You know what, fuck you, I’m going to bed.” He felt his heart sinking.

Rick was right, no one did want him, maybe he’d hitchhike out of here tomorrow. He felt a hand on his shoulder. “No. You’re not going anywhere. Don’t gimme that look, Pines. You’re an asshole, but you know what so am I. Let’s burn some more things. Maybe smoke another jay?” 

Stan shook his head. “So you’re not mad about the snooping?”

“You’re an asshole, what should else I expect from you. But you’re my asshole.” Rick said.

Stan smiled, Rick rolled another joint they sat down and they watched the fire burn down as they smoked.

“I think I’m smarter then anyone on earth.’ Rick sighed. “it sucks.“

“My twin brother is pretty smart,” Stan said. “We we’re best friend for years, then I fucked that up. I always do that. I move from one disaster to another.”

“What happened with Carla?” Rick asked.

“Peace Ascendant Family, their ya know a cult, out in Texas. We were running cons and we thought how hard would be to swindle on a bunch of brainwashed morons? Heh. Very hard.” Stan sighed. “She got sucked in, their leader this guy callin’ himself Thistledowne he got to her… I dunno how.”  
Stna closed his eyes, and tried not go back there. The smells of the farm, the drugs, the strange hypnotic music that played over crackling speaker the whole time. The distant look in Carla’s eyes, in everyone’s eyes, knowing he was up shit creek without a paddle and miles from anyone who could help him….

“Hey, you okay?” Rick’s voice cut through.

“No.” Stan said. 

“Me neither.” Rick commented. 

Rick put his hand on Stan’s back and laid his head on his shoulder. They stayed like the for quite a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long since I updated, I don't know if anyone cares. I'm really losing momentum and feeling like no one really, cares or likes me. Yes, I know that last bit is my fault.


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks passed, Neither of them talked about that night. Stan fell into a routine: Wake up late, eat breakfast, do whatever chores he could do, read some old Nero Wolfe books and then party with Rick: rinse repeat. He didn’t know what Rick was working on and it was like an itch in the back of his mind. One day he was sitting on the front porch with a can of Old Canoe beer and reading Death of a Doxy, when something came down the winding drive way, kicking up a cloud of dust, rumbling and clanking. Mrs. Patterson came out of the house wiping her hands on her apron, and then putting her hands up to her brow and looking out to see the source of the commotion. She smiled at Stan. 

“It’s here, the surprise Rich got for you.” She said. 

“Eh?” Stan said, putting the book down and peering out into the cloud of dust. It was a tow truck… towing…… Wait…  
”HOLY MOSES?! THAT’S THE STANLEYMOBILE!”

Rick was standing in the doorway. “Yeah, I found it, Wasn’t that hard to track down,” He took a swig from a flask and belched.”The keys were in your possessions at the looney bin, I got ‘em for you.”

“Thanks!” Stan said.

“…well now you can get shit for me.” Rick said and went back into the house. “…the keys are on the kitchen table.”

Stan ran into the kitchen and grabbed the keys. He was gonna take the stanleymobile for a spin again. Rick was signing some paperwork for the tow truck guy. Stan could hardly believe his eyes. It was the same car! How did Rick even get it here? The tow truck guy nodded to Rick and drove off.

“I’m gonna take her for a spin!” Stan said leaping towards his car. “Wanna come?”

“Eh, w-why not?” Rick said with a laugh. “Mrs. P, we’re going for a drive don’t wait up!”

“Okay boys!” Mrs. Patterson called cheerily from the kitchen.

They laughed as the car rocketed down the driveway, everything was perfect in that moment. Rick took a drink from his flask and offered some to Stan. 

“There’s no cops around right?” Stan asked.

“Naw,” Rick said. 

Stan took the flask and took a swig, the vodka was harsh and made him cough, but totally worth it as the warmth and happiness flooded him. Rick fiddled with the radio, and found a station playing Led Zeppelin, the windows were rolled down and everything was just amazing, as they drove down the country roads, past houses, woods, and fields. 

“Okay now you’re gonna wanna make a right here.” Rick said.  
Stan shrugged and made the turn.

They were going down a smaller narrower wooded road, they travelled down it for a mile or three.

Then Rick said, “Make a left, then go straight until you see the post office, then turn down the gravel road.”

Stan decided to do what Rick said, so he did that. The gravel road was barely anything. At the end of it was a honky-tonk: low and wooden, with wide dark windows that featured neon beer signs, It was called ‘Happy Harry’s Bar.’

“This is it! This is the place! Whoo!” Rick shouted as they pulled in front of it on the crunching gravel.

The car door on Rick’s side flew open and he strutted out. Stan opened his door with less enthusiasm.

“Okay, why’s it called Happy Harry’s?”

“Cuz Harry was the owner’s mongoloid little brother. He also was an alcoholic, he got busted for public drunkenness by some cops and ‘accidentally’ died in custody.”

“Ya mean the pigs beat him to death,” Stan said wearily.

“Yep.” Rick answered. 

“That’s fucked up,” Said Stan.

“Yeah well.. they bought it with the settlement they got from the police….this place rocks! It’s a thumb in the eye to every cop ‘round here! You’ll love it!” Said Rick.

“Yeah sure, if you insist,” Stan said.

They walked into the dimly lit bar, smoke was floating in the air and Walking after Midnight was playing on the jukebox. The actual bar was against the west wall, long and wooden with a mirrored back and stools pulled up. There was a small stage at the back with tables and chairs. The bartender, a grizzled old broad with a mass of dyed blonde hair, was cleaning glasses and bullshitting with some hick looking regulars. She glanced up when she saw Rick walk in and smiled. 

“Hello there Rick, what can I get you and your friend?” She asked in a smokey voice.

“Whiskey straight up,” Rick said as he strode up to the bar.

“And you, handsome?” She said and winked at Stan. 

“Whiskey on the rocks,” Stan said. He wasn’t sure how he felt about women old enough to be his Mom flirting with him. Good? Bad? A little of both, to tell the truth. 

She nodded and made their drinks. 

“Stan, this is Darla she o-owns this place,’ Rick said.

Darla the bartender smiled wearily. 

“You were Harry’s sister?” Stan asked.

“Yeah, poor guy, never had much in the way of brains but he was a sweetheart, didn’t deserve what the cops did to him,” she said. “He liked a good drink, a good time, music and friends.”

She slid the whiskies in front of them. Rick and Stan raised their glasses. “To Harry.”

Darla poured herself a shot. “To Harry.”

All of them drank. The whiskey felt good sliding down Stan’s throat and filling him with warmth. They drank their whiskies in a leisurely fashion, talking bullshit with Darla, Stan was feeling buzzed and warm. Darla was looking more attractive by the minute when the snarl and roar of Harleys pulling up blotted out all conservation. A whole trope of the largest, hairiest bikers trooped in. Their leader reminded him of those Tom of Finland’s drawings that Ford used to keep hidden between his mattress. Stan blinked and looked down at his whiskey, why was even thinking of that, he, Stan was 80% straight right? I mean Stan had never sucked a dick without being paid for it or taken it in the ass.

“Hey Jimmy!” Rick said jovially, and stuck out a hand.

“Hey Sanchez you sketchy son of a bitch!” Jimmy responded with a laughing, gravelly, booze and cigarette roughened voice, grabbing Rick’s arm and shaking it.

“Pines, this is Jimmy Snakes and the Highwaymen,” Rick said. “Jimmy, that’s Stan.”

“Uhhh hey,” Stan said nervously.

Jimmy looked Stan up and down and smiled in sly way. “Nice to meet you.”

It was like the bastard could read his thoughts and approved. Stan looked back into his whiskey and took a gulp. The bikers had bellied up to the bar and gathered around the pool table. The rest of the day seemed to flow by in booze, cigarettes and conversation. Stan was wondering about playing some darts, but suddenly he had to piss real bad. He got up and headed to the men’s room. It was about what you’d expect in a join like this, dim yellow light, off white tiling, two urinals and one wooden stall. He unzipped and began to piss. The door opened and Jimmy Snakes stepped in. Stan pretended not to notice the man using the urinal beside him. He shook off the last drops and tucked himself back in his boxers and went to wash his hands. Jimmy Snakes had also finished, and was leaning against the wall. 

“So you wanna fuck?” Jimmy asked.

Stan looked around nervously, but the question was arousing him. “Yeah sure.” 

Jimmy nodded to a stall, Stan walked over opened the door and went in. 

Jimmy followed him grinning lazily. “How you want this?”

“You want me to blow you or fuck you?” Stan asked.

Jimmy smiled at him and tilted his hand. “No, I want to fuck you.”

The idea sent a shudder of fear and arousal down Stan’s back. He’d never… He wasn’t gay! He wasn’t gonna!…. He looked at Jimmy who was unzipping his jeans and Stan wanted him inside so badly. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t like anyone else knew.

Stan undid his belt, unzipped his pants and pulled them down along with his boxers. He bent over leaning on the stall wall. His ass was cold hanging out and he felt so vulnerable, so weak. “Umm, okay but I’ve never been fucked up the ass.”

Jimmy chuckled lightly. “Don’t ya worry, you’ll like it, just relax…”

Stan took a breath and let his body go loose, trying to relax was harder than he thought. He felt some cold liquid on his hole, he suppressed a yelp and then felt the other’s man cock enter him and it hurt, but more than hurting it felt fucking amazing, as it was filling him, overtaking him with sensation, he felt like he was flying. He bit his lip to stifle whatever noise he might make… did this make him gay? No, of course not, this was just fun, no one would ever know but him Jimmy and wall. Then the door opened and Rick walked in, shit! Stan was caught literally with his pants down. He wanted to say something to something but Jimmy was above him, thrusting into him, making his brain turn to jelly. Rick said nothing but smirked he walked over to Stan, got on his knees and began to suck Stan’s cock. Between Jimmy in the back and Rick in the front Stan didn’t know anything but the intense pleasure ripping through him. His legs were weak, Jimmy came with a groan, Rick sucked and pumped harder. And Stan came biting his lip so hard it bled. Rick got to his feet and kissed him messily on the bloody lips, he tasted like jizz and smoke. Stan almost pushed him off but Rick was to forceful, spinning him and pinning his arms against the wall as Jimmy pulled up his jeans, buckled his belt and left. Stan wanted it, he wanted this moment, this heat, this force, this kiss. Rick pulled back and licked Stan’s blood off his lips. 

“Tuck in your dick and pull up your pants.” Rick said as if nothing happened.

“Uh sure,” Stan said. He did just that, and after he noticed Rick had walked out already. Stan followed back into the crowded, smokey bar where there was laughter and music from the jukebox. Jimmy and Rick were playing darts and drinking beer like they’d been there forever, weird. Stan walked up to the bar, he had some spending money and got himself a beer. He could only afford Old Canoe beer, but hey it was foamy, cold and came in a mug, so did it matter? Naw. He looked around, and in the crowd he swore he saw a guy he knew from the city, Irish Mike, but what the heck would he be doing this far North. Besides Irish Mike worked for Big Lou In Brooklyn and he owed Big Lou money…why would he be up here… it probably wasn’t him. He took a sip from his beer, looked back and the guy was gone. totally wasn’t Irish Mike, right? Stan drank and flirted some more with Darla, not seriously, but she enjoyed the attention and he enjoyed it as well. Around midnight they left, Stan was walking towards his car, but Rick wasn’t.

“Where you goin’ the car’s over here knucklehead,” Stan said.

Rick raised his unibrow and kept walking. Stan had no choice but to follow. Rick turned down a narrow wooded path, Stan followed hoping not to trip over a root, but the moon was bright and he could just about see. The wood thinned out and in front of them was a slightly overgrown meadow, fireflies sparkled in the air and on the ground. There was a slight breeze. Rick looked at him and offered a hand. Stan took it. Rick walked him to the middle of the meadow and laid down. 

“What’s so great about this place?” Stan asked.

“The stars, Pines, y-you can really see them out here,” Rick said stretching out in the grass. Stan sat down next to him looked up.  
It was incredible! He’d never seen so many or have them be so bright.  
“Whoa,” Stan said.

“Someday, I’ll visit every one of those stars, Pines,” Rick said.

 

“How?” Stan asked “Ya gonna be an astronaut or something?”

“…Naw, But I’ll figure it out,” Rick said. “Anyhow last month there was this meteor shower and and I tracked one about the size of a grapefruit here, I got it back home and…. you don’t care, do ya?”

“Naw, but it’s funny seeing you get all excited,” Stan admitted.

“I know what’ll excite you,” Rick said.

“Not in the mood after that,” Stan said. “One orgy a night is enough.”

“No, but Jimmy gave some primo grass,” Rick said. He’d already rolled a joint and was lighting it.

“Fuck yeah, I could go for some of that,” Stan said as Rick took his hit and passed it over.

Stan took a hit and let it sit in his lungs and exhaled, the light floaty feeling showed up, along with a wave of heavy stoned contentment. They kept smoking and Rick kept talking about that stupid meteor he found. Stan wasn’t paying much attention.

Rick stared at him, got to his feet and started walking to the end of the meadow. Stan sighed and got to his feet and followed, just like Rick wanted. He got to the place Rick was standing paused.

“Ya see Pines, this is what I wanted to show you. I-It’s a where I found the meteor!” He said pointing at an indent in the grass.

“Heh, I’m supposed to be impressed?” Stan said.

“You don’t get it, this ball of dirt, Pines, it’s spinning through space, but what’s out there?! What is more than this world we’re on! We haven’t even scratched the surface!” Rick said excitedly flailing. “Ya know what I found on that meteor, Pines?”

“Don’t care.” Stan said with chuckle.

“Dirt, from outer space! Alien Dirt! In that dirt were spores! Alien fungus spores from outer space! I’ve been experimenting with those spores, I’m gonna find out all about them, why? For Science Pines!” Rick exclaimed.

“Uh, yeah you do that, I want some corn chips,” Stan said.

Rick began to scowl and then his expression changed, to something lighter. “Yeah I could go for some too, the shops are closed though, Pines.”

 

They began to walk back to the car.   
“Awww,” Stan sighed. “I’m too stoned to think about breaking in…”

“Me too.” Rick said.

They got in the car, the local radio station was playing Simon & Garfunkel, drunk, stoned and feeling fine, Stan drove back to the house. He wondered, dimly, about those spores, if they were dangerous, but naw, Rick knew what he was doing he was a genius.


	4. Chapter 4

That night they stayed up until morning mostly talking bullshit. The sun rose turning the sky, pink, orange, and yellow.

“Whoa,” Stan murmured. “Nature sure does put on a good show.”

Rick sighed. “I’ve seen better, when I was a kid in Puerto Rico.”

“Do you miss living there?” Stan asked.

“Naw, I miss what it was, not what it is now,” Rick said. 

“You never tried to go back?” asked Stan.

“Fuck yeah I did,” Rick said. “ I ran away twice, when I was nine and when I was thirteen, trying to get back. Mostly Mom had me watched like a hawk.”

“Did you get there?” Stan asked

“When I was nine, we’re in California, the school year is ending, my mom is going to ship me off here as always. But I tricked her into letting me go by myself,” He said. “I got as far as the Florida Keys before I got caught.”

“Long bus ride?” Stan asked.

“Sorta,” Rick shrugged. “I ran out of money in Texas and had to thumb it to Florida, some shit happened to me on the road, but I survived.”

There was a darkness in Rick’s eyes when he mentioned ’some shit’ Stan wondered what that was, but he decided not to ask.

“Second time?” Stan asked.

“I got to Puerto Rico, my Abuela was dying and I wanted to see her, she was the only person I ever knew who got me,” Rick said. “I stayed three months with Papa and Abuela, it was great! I said goodbye to Abuela. Then Mom found me, and told Papa the truth, and the coward sent me back with her. Didn’t matter later that year, after my growth spurt I was too big to take up. And I ran away, never saw the bitch again.”

“So what about your Dad?” Stan asked.

“Him? Loser. He fucking gave me up again to her. He was disappointed I lied to him, asshole. He valued conforming more than his own son.” Rick said. “As far as I’m concerned I don’t have a Mom and Dad, I had a donor and an incubator.”

“Wow, that’s harsh Sanchez,” Stan said.

Rick got up glared at Stan. “Early on all of us learn that we can either be loved and accepted or whole.”

“Which one did you pick?” Stan asked.

“Guess,” Rick said and walked back to the house.

Stan got up and followed, but he wondered about being whole or being loved. He’d been as whole as he could his entire life, and look what it got him, no brother, no family, broke, living off the charity of a ‘friend’ in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere. Maybe being loved for a change would be better. But then he remembered he wasn’t a genius like Rick or even as smart as Ford. So what did he know? Stan slept through most of that day. When he got up it was six o’clock at night. When he finally wandered downstairs Rick was sitting at an empty kitchen table looking almost as tired as Stan felt, staring at a can of old canoe beer in a disconnected way.

“Hey,” Rick said.

“Hey,” said Stan.”What’s for dinner?”

“This is Mrs. P’s day off, she does uhhh family shit,” Rick said. “So no food.”

“What are we gonna eat?” Stan asked.

“L-let’s go into town and get a pizza at this place, it’s called Jimi’s,” Rick said. “I’ll drive cuz you’re not gonna find it on your own.”

“Sounds good to me,” Stan replied.

Jimi’s was a modest flats-roofed red building with a black lettered sign that had a drawing of a mustachio’d Italian chef throwing a pizza above his head. When they walked in the joint Stan glanced up, the girl behind the counter was a knock-out blonde and her light blue shirt was unbuttoned just enough so anyone could see her cleavage. She looked beyond bored as she eyed them. Rick was smiling at her, leaning over the counter attempting to flirt. The girl just looked annoyed and rolled her eyes, the bell on the door jingled. Who should walk in but Irish Mike, in the flesh and large as life. He yelped, and Irish Mike startled. An idea flashed through Stan’s head maybe if he beat up Irish Mike, put the fear of god into him, he wouldn’t tell Big Lou Stan was here. It was worth a shot. Stan leapt at Irish Mike and the man hurtled out the door. Stan gave chase, but it was too late, Irish Mike’s orange dodge was peeling out of the parking lot. 

 

Cursing Stan re-entered the pizza shop. The girl looked just as bored, and Rick glared at him.

“Pines w-w-what was that about?” Rick asked

“Uh nothing.” Stan lied.

“Right,” Rick said sarcastically. “Whatever it is, I don’t really care. Just ordered us some pizza, olives, anchovies, and pepperoni.”

Stan sighed, “Sounds disgusting.”

“Next time be here, if you want input on the pizza,” Rick said.The girl at the counter was now smiling at Rick. She went in the back came out with boxed pizza. “See ya later Jenny.”   
He winked at her and she smiled winked back.

 

In the car Stan asked, “What was that about?”

 

“Jenny’s gonna come over after her shift, wants to party with us.” Rick said.

“Really?” Stan sighed

“Hey don’t worry, she’s bringing her friend Gloria,” Rick added. “Plenty of chicks to go around.”

“Are they even legal? Anyways, I thought you were gay,” Stan asked.

“Does it matter if they are? I swing both ways Stan, ” Rick said

“I don’t want my ass kicked by some girl’s hick Dad,” Stan grumbled.

“You won’t.” Rick said. “Cuz I’ll vaporize them.”

“With what, a laser gun?” Stan answered sarcastically.

“Yep, Rick said.

Stan sighed and grumbled. “Between this and crappy pizza.”

“Hey if you don’t wanna party, fine, go pout in your room,” Rick said. 

“What and miss out on the action, ha fat chance,” Stan said. “By partying you mean drugs right? They’ll definitely be drugs, right?”

“Yep,” Rick sighed, “Panties don’t drop without ‘em.”

“Heh, right,” Stan agreed.

Worried thoughts chased each other through Stan’s brain and he was silent as they drove so Rick turned up the radio, it was Creedence Clearwater singing about a bad moon rising, and Stan’s unease grew. If Irish Mike knew he was here then Big Lou would know soon and the last thing he needed was his legs broken, or worse.


	5. Chapter 5

As it turned out the pizza wasn’t so bad, it was bad but Stan could eat it without throwing it up afterwards, which was a plus. He wondered if he should tell Rick about Big Lou the loan shark, and the whole situation, maybe Rick could…zap them? Naw, this was Stan’s business, he didn’t want Rick getting his legs broken either. But he’d been drinking beer since they got the pizza and the mellow buzz was way too nice to ruin. Besides Rick was blaring his music on the hi-fi and had turned on every light in goddamned house. The girls showed up around nine. Jenny already looked bored and Gloria, who turned out to be a chubby brunette with a pixie cut, looked nervous. Hopefully she’d loosen up and he could touch one of her boobs. Rick was rolling a joint as Jenny and Gloria sat in chairs opposite them.  
“Hey this is old Van der Art place, did you buy it or what?” Jenny asked,  
“Naw, I’m their grandson, I figured it would be cool to crash here and do some, ya know, research,” Rick said and finished rolling the joint. He lit and took a hit.  
He passed it to Jenny who also took a hit.   
“Heh, you’re a scientist,” Jenny said with snort and a laugh after her hit.  
“Yep, a mad scientist baby, “Rick said smiling.   
Jenny passed the joint to Gloria. Who looked at it with hungry eyes and grabbed it, she took a monster long drag and then gave it to Stan.   
“Leave some for the rest of us, babe,” Stan said taking his puff and feeling the mellowness wash over him.  
“Sorry,” Gloria said meekly. “It’s just I’m home for the summer, living with my folks and I can’t smoke there.”  
“Uptight parents, huh?” Stan added as he passed the joint to Rick.  
Jenny rolled her eyes, “You have no idea, her mom and dad are real squares.”  
“Yep,” Gloria said smiling. “Yeah, I have to write and call when I’m at school all the time or they freak out on me….”  
Stan was paying more attention to her chest then anything she was saying, wondering when he could touch a boob, not now obviously….  
Rick was grinning. “That’s the problem with the older generation, most of them don’t get how much things have changed or it fucking scares them.”  
The joint got passed to Jenny who said, “Yeah fuck old people,”   
“Fuck’em,” Stan agreed.  
Gloria was looking at him grinning. “Ya know I thought this summer was going to be a total wash out but you guys seem pretty cool.”  
There was something lustful and predatory in her gaze. He didn’t mind it, maybe he’d get to touch a boob tonight, maybe more… it’d been a while since he fucked a chick.   
They finished that joint and another. The girls had both taken off their shoes and socks.   
“Hey Rick can you put on something we can dance to?” Jenny asked.  
“Yeah!” Said Gloria.   
Rick put a funky LP on, Stan moved the furniture, and they started to groove and boogie. Gloria laughed as she shook her hips and Stan was glad to have an excuse to dance. So the night wore on, they smoked more, they drank some more. By the end of the evening Rick was going at it pretty hot and heavy with Jenny. Stan was making out with Gloria and had just made it to second base (over the shirt) when She pulled away.   
“Hey Tiger, ya wanna show me your room?” Gloria whispered.  
So she wanted to have sex with him? Yeah, that was probably right.   
“Sure thing, babe,” Stan said and wobbling a bit got to his feet. The room seemed to be spinning a bit, but hey he was going to get laid right?  
So he took her by the hand and they both staggered up the stairs and clinging to the banister he carefully lead her up to his bedroom. They were in his bedroom, she was taking off her shirt and now her skirt. Oh he was horny and he was ready for it…. right? He wasn’t sure. She was pulling him towards her laughing, unbuckling his belt and pulling down his pants. He wasn’t hard. Maybe it was the booze. She had her hands on his piece.   
“Uhh, sorry babe, I don’t think it’s gonna happen,” He mumbled. “I got uhhh whiskey dick.”  
“Let’s see if that’s certain, maybe I can help,” She said with a smile and she began to stroke him through his boxers.  
She was really going for it, but he was still soft as butter. She looked at him in exasperated way.   
“I told ya I’m too drunk,” He said.  
“I’m gonna see if I can suck it…” She said smiling and reaching for him.  
“I don’t think that’s gonna help,” He began.  
She belched, covered her mouth demurely and then she started vomiting all over him and the floor. He yelped and backed up, grabbed the trash can, tried to swallow down the rising tide of his own sickness. The smell was overwhelming and soon both were puking into the waste paper basket. She stopped, he stopped, she looked at him glassy eyed and slumped backwards onto the bed, she had passed out. He nudged her onto her side and put the wastepaper basket underneath. Sighing he sat on the end of the bed, he felt dirty, drunk, dizzy, and miserable for at least five minutes, then got up and decided he’d sleep on the couch downstairs. The music was still playing loudly, lights on and Rick was fucking Jenny. Her legs were high in the air and spread wide apart. She was making staccato sounds of pleasure in time to Rick’s thrusts. Stan watched for two minutes, felt shitty and left. He got out of the house unlocked his car and settled down in the back seat. He felt lonely, empty, drunk, and really sleepy. He put his head down, closed his eyes, and drifted off into a heavy slumber.


	6. Chapter 6

Stan woke up, he felt like shit and there was a man sitting the front seat of his car. It was Irish Mike and he had a gun trained on Stan.   
”FUCK!” Stan swore getting up and hitting his head against the car roof.

 

“Stan this ain’t nothing personal,” Irish Mike said. “But you owe Big Lou money and I’m gonna have to make an example of you and your friends in that house.”

“Look, can’t we work something out? I mean Big Lou is down in the City, this is four hours away at least,” Stan said trying to buy time. 

 

“Maybe,” Irish Mike said. “I’ll take payments of 5% of what you owe Big Lou every two weeks.”

“Five percent that’s……” there was a long pause as Stan did the mental math. “Fifty dollars! I—”

 

Irish Mike cocked the gun. 

“—Can handle that, no problem.” Stan finished.

“Gimme it now, up front.” Irish Mike said.

“Uhhhh, it might be in the house, lemme go get it.” Stan said.

“No,” said Irish mike. “I’m coming with you.” 

Irish Mike left the car first and gestured with his pistol for Stan to leave as well. Inside, Stan felt helpless and resigned, it settled over him like a fog. How did he always end up like this? Irish Mike kept the pistols muzzle between Stan’s shoulder blades as they walked up to the door, It was unlocked so Stan went in. Rick was passed out on a couch and Jenny was passed out on the other couch. In the light of the morning and the silence right now, he feels like they are all about to die, and there is no panic, no fear, nothing. Then Irish Mike poked him with barrel of the gun.

“Wake your friends up,”

Stan grunted and ambled over to Rick, shaking him by the shoulder. Rick covered his face and mumbled, Stan nudged him again, harder.

“Rick wake up.”

“No, Fuck off.”

“Uh, Rick this is important, this uhhh guy who’s boss I borrowed money from is here and he wants everyone’s attention.” Stan said,

Rick’s eyes shot open, he sat up and glared at Irish Mike. “ A fucking, loan shark, Pines?”

Stan looked at him sheepishly. “Yeah, do you have a fifty?”

Rick glared at him now, and didn’t break eye contact. 

Jenny stretched and moaned sleepily on the other couch, then rolling over she opened her eyes. “Ugh, I feel like shit, who’s that guy?”

Irish Mike cocked his gun, and she started screaming. 

Rick’s face screwed up in pain and he covered his ears. 

Jenny was screaming and crying and babbling. Then Gloria thundered down the stairs.

“WHAT’S HAPPEN——“

And that was it because Irish Mike shot her, there was a BOOM and she fell like a sack of bricks. Gloria made no more noise, she laid twitching a bit on the floor and then didn’t move. Her skirt was rumpled up around her thighs, her legs slightly bent, her head was down on the ground and there was blood pooling under it. 

Stan felt panic rising in tandem with fear and guilt. Jenny was wailing now, making an inhuman sound. Stan’s ears were ringing and the guilt won out. This was HIS fault, he’d led Irish Mike here, fuck, that girl was dead and soon they’d all be dead.

Irish Mike shouted, “LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO! GET THAT BITCH TO SHUT UP OR SHE’S NEXT!”

Stan looked at Rick who still had the expression of someone mildly annoyed. 

Rick went over and slapped Jenny and shook her. “Stop screaming, deep breaths, calm down, now.”

Jenny looked at him she was shaking but she began to breathe deeply and making slimy trails down her cheeks. Rick let go and she sat on the couch, silently crying while looking at the floor.

 

“One of you guys had better pay me, now,” Irish Mike said aiming the gun at Stan and then at Rick.

Rick shouted and grabbed at the gun. Stan took it as a cue to also yell and grab Irish Mike from behind. The fucker kicked like a mule, but Stan held on as Rick bit, scratched, and punched Irish Mike with his free hand. The fucker screamed as Rick jabbed him in the eye, blood spurted and Irish Mike dropped the gun. Stan let go to pick it up, then Irish Mike broke from Rick’s clutches and staggered into the kitchen. Stan was holding the gun. 

Stan was breathing heavily. “So what now?” 

“Now?” Rick said. “You thought I had some kind of plan?”

“Yeah, you’re the genius,” Stan commented

“It’s obvious, right?” Rick sighed.

“Uhhhh,” Stan began. “Yep we shoot him.”

“Get rid of the body and make a lie as to why,” Rick pointed to Gloria’s body. “That happened.”

Jenny started sobbing louder.

“Thought of it,” Stan said. “We were drunk and playing Russian roulette.”

“Nice,” Rick said. “Now I’m gonna take care of that fucker, get a smoke and we can—“

“MY BEST FRIEND IS DEAD! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!” Jenny lept from her seat tackling Rick. Stan put the gun on the couch.

Stan pulled her off Rick and she beat against his chest with her balled fists. “Look, babe, I know it seems cold, but if we don’t come up with some story we’ll all be for the electric chair.”

Jenny’s fists began to run out of steam and her sobbing turned into a whimper as she processed what Stan said.

“They’d think we killed her?” She asked as her tears dried.

“Yep,” Stan said.

“I’m going to the kitchen,” Rick said taking the gun off the couch.

“Got it,” Stan said.   
Rick wandered off towards the kitchen, following the trail of blood left by Irish Mike’s eye.  
Jenny was sobbing again this time into Stan’s chest, and Stan was gingerly patting her back. Was it bad that he MIGHT be getting an erection?

“FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK FUCKITY-FUCK!” came Rick’s voice.

 

Stan dropped Jenny and ran into the kitchen.

“Uhhh, Rick what’s the problem?” Stan asked.

Rick was standing by the basement door, it was open. Rick was pale as a sheet. “He got into the cellar, those spores are down there.”


	7. Chapter 7

“The alien spores, what’s the big deal?” 

“The big deal is those spores Pines, they get inside your nasal cavity and they take over Pines! They are airborne and very dangerous! This just fucks us up good, Pines! We’re fucked Pines!”

“Whoa, calm down Rick, maybe he’s still down there maybe you can stop him.” Stan said.

Rick frowned and tossed Stan a gas mask.

“Put this on,” Rick said. 

“Wha?”

“If you don’t you’ll be infected by the spores.” Rick said as he put on his gas mask. 

“Sheesh, that bad for a load of fungus?” Stan grumbled but put on the gas mask.

“We can’t stop him if he’s infected Stan, you don’t get it these spores… t-t-t-they get inside your airways and take over!” Rick exclaimed. “They aren’t like earth fungus.”

“Alright, fine, nerd.” Stan groused as the cautiously walked down the rickety wooden stairs to the basement. 

Rick had quite a set up down here, he’d built this whole lab with white prefab walls and all kinds of beakers and machines. Of course it was trashed, metal lab tables turned on their sides, beakers smashed and walls torn open and this persistent blue purple haze floating around them like mist. Rick was staring disconsolately at an empty petri dish and a shriveled bunch of lab rats in a tank. 

A petri dish had a blue purple ring and gunk oozing off it. 

“Rick?” Stan asked. “What gives?”

“Look around Stan we’re fucked,” He gestured to the blue purple haze. “The spores are airborne!”

“SO? “ Stan said. “Isn’t… that how fungus works?”

“YES SHIT FOR BRAINS! BUT THIS ISN’T EARTH FUNGUS!” Rick sighed. “That’s why we’re wearing——“

And then Irish Mike dove out the wall and tackled Rick and was making a horrific growling noise. Irish Mike was different, his eyes were white, empty, his skin had turned gray-blue and he was covered with purple blue fungal spikes and pustules, his mouth was a sea of blue purple foam. Rick was kicking and punching the thing that had been Irish Mike, trying to fight him off. As the hits landed more clouds of spores puffed out of the fungal zombie. Stan took a shard of glass from a beaker and stabbed it into Irish Mike’s back. Maybe he’d die and this nightmare would be over, but Irish Mike just turned, glass still wedged between shoulder blades and blood gushing from the wound, to Stan and leapt to attack him. Stan ducked, that’s when Jenny came down into the Basement. She began to scream again, drawing the fungal mutant’s attention. It grabbed her ad bit down fungal spikes ripping into her flesh and Stan watched in fascinated disgust as Jenny’s body began to twitch, then go white as chalk and shrivel, her features bunching up, her once lithe form collapsing in on itself. Stan almost screamed when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was just Rick.

Rick pointed at a door leading outside, up another set of stairs. Stan nodded and followed. 

They got to the surface. Rick closed the door behind them

“Okay Rick, you want me to burn this sucker down again, there’s a gas can in the shed…” Stan began to say.

“No use, Pines. “ In the moments before the door close a cloud of those spores had followed, drifting lazily on the air. 

“Eh, nothing out here but us.” Stan shrugged. 

Then the wind kicked up, blowing the spores out towards the town.

“SHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSSHIT!” Rick and Stan screamed simultaneously.

“Get in the car Don’t take off the gas mask!” Rick shouted

“RIGHT I’m already ahead of you!” Stan yelled

They barreled over the ground to the stanelymobile got in and Stan started her up. They were down the road, gas masks still on.

“So how bad is this?” Stan asked. “Just the town or is the whole county fucked?”

“That’s s-s-s-small potatoes …all of upstate maybe even Buffalo or Canada is fucked.” Rick said. 

“Why the fuck did you mess with those spores?!” Stan roared.

“BECAUSE THAT’s what science is STAN!” Rick said. 

They were speeding down the highway, faster than a bat out of hell. 

“Don’t give me that line of crap Rick, I know YOU!” Stan growled. “WHY?!”

“Cuz while the spores are turning your brain to goo, you are having the BEST TRIP of your LIFE! I didn’t do it myself but what I discovered from the rats and like a monkey is that all the pleasure chemicals get dancing about the grey matter when the sporee get inhaled AND the hallucinations make LSD or earth shrooms look lame as fuck!” Rick said.

“YOU DID THIS TO GET HIGH!?” Stan screamed and swerved. 

“EVENTUALLY, I WANTED TO NEUTRALIZE THE WHOLE TURN YOU INTO MONSTER THING….” Rick started. “Hey Stan what’s that big white bright thing ahead of us?”

“The sun?” Stan said. “Wait it’s getting bigger and brightener what the FUCK is it?”

The white light encompassed the Stanleymobile totally. They screamed, then the light vanished taking Rick and Stan with it.

 

Stan woke up, he was itchy, tired and it was too bright out, would someone draw a blind or something. Then he opened his eyes… there was nothing but bright white surrounding him and he was naked. He squinted, beside him was Rick, naked and curled into a tight ball. 

Stan nudged Rick who mumbled stretched and opened his eyes. 

“Hey, Rick where are we?” Stan asked.

“Beats me,” Rick said. “But they could decorate a bit.”

“I can help you with that,” Came a beautiful female voice from nearby. Standing there was a woman at least seven feet tall, mauve skin, slender in beige colored robes that trailed the ground, her long flowing hair was the colors of the sunset, her eyes were larger than any human should be and all a shade of deep blue. She had nostrils and a suggestion of a nose and full sensuous lips. ….. This woman was not human. “You are on board our ship.”   
Her mouth didn’t move but Stan heard the words in his mind.

“Who are you?” Stan asked

“WHAT are you?” Rick asked.

“I am Frifaga of the planet Notrallia, but more importantly I am a member of the Galactic watchmen and you have unleashed the Yarok fungal entity on this poor primitive world, for that we have apprehended you.” She said.


	8. Chapter 8

The alien babe left them there, naked in the white, empty brightness for what seemed like hours. Stan was curled on the ground hoping this was all some nightmare. Rick was pacing the room furiously. Stan just shut his eyes tight. Rick came over and kicked him.

“Hey what gives!” Stan cried out trying to shield his gut and groin.

“Get up, Pines, w-w-we need to figure out how to break out of here.” Rick said.

Stan got to his feet. “Alright, how exactly, there’s nothing in here.”

“…uh-huh thats what they want us to think.” Rick said. “Here’s the plan, you punch the air until y-you hit something. There has be walls or a door somewhere.”

“So that’s your plan to get us out of this? We just fumble around until we run into something…oh yeah another of the greatest hits from mr. ‘I tinkered with evil alien fungus to get high.’” Stan growled.

“You got any better ideas, Pines?” Rick said.

“Yeah, as a matter of fact I do!”” Stan said. It’s called I beat the fuck out of you for getting us in this mess.”  
Stan twitched his lips into a small smile and winked.

“Y-y-yeah right, like you could!” Rick snarled but he winked back.

The fight started fast, punches and kicks, soon Stan had Rick in a clinch and slammed him against the wall, there was a crack as his back hit some kind of large tv screen, it flickered and went off. Then Rick slammed Stan against another wall, the monitor flickered and went black... it was closer than either of them were expecting. One more before they were bloody and sore.. but if it worked they could see the size of this cell. That’s when the door opened and two guards entered. One looked a lot like a brown, fat warthog on two legs, the other a short, thin, pimply green humanoid with small cunning eyes. They both wore belted navy blue uniforms with some kind of guns in a holster. 

“You two stop fighting,” ordered the warthog in a snuffled tone. 

Stan wondered how they were speaking English.

The thin green one took out a blue sparking gun and held it gingerly. 

Just then an intercom cut in. “Officer Culon, officer Khnobs, bring the prisoners to the bridge.“

“Right,” said officer Culon, the warthog.

“How we gonna get ‘em to come?” asked officer Khnobs, holding up the sparking gun, “This?”

“Naw, the ship does it” said officer Culon.

 

He pressed a button on his uniform and there was a small beeping...

“ARGGH!”

“HEY!”

Stan and Rick were separated by some invisible force that stood them straight up while wiggling grey cables dropped from the ceiling and fastened around their wrists, snaking around and binding them, then two more of those cables formed shackles.

They were marched up to the bridge with Khnobs at the back and Culon at the front. The corridors of the ship were white paneled and bore no indications of any control panels or even any doors. They walked vaguely upwards, at least Stan thought they were. Rick said nothing, so Stan said nothing. It felt they spiraling upwards maybe? They stopped and Culon pressed the same button on his uniform. The white wall to the left of them slid open and the two guards got behind them. They were frog marched onto…the bridge? Well it kinda reminded Stan of that Star Trek show, so he assumed it was the bridge. That Frifaga chick was there, also someone who looked like a blue earless hippo in a jumpsuit, a strange murmuring green tree like creature also in the same jumpsuit, and a few others. One of them was grey, tall and thin, with vague stubble on his chin. He looked tired, well the bags under his eyes didn’t look like a natural feature.

He surveyed Stan and Rick with a frustrated groan.

“Look, I’m the captain of the Whorl and you two…. ugh.” He said. “You are utter morons.”

“Hey, I happen to be a genius, asshole,” Rick said.

The captain rolled his eyes. “If you were, you wouldn’t have released the Yarok to get high.” 

“You speak English?” Stan asked, he’d been thinking it since the guards entered.

“No,” the captain grumbled... “Our ship is running universal translation tech.”

“Oh,” Stan felt a bit embarrassed.

“Look, if the Yarok are so bad then how come I could contain them in my lab?” Rick asked.

“Barely,” Snorted the captain, “Look Mr. Clever-dick, the Yarok would be converting and consuming your primitive planet by now, if we hadn’t been monitoring you.”

“Oh sure,” Rick grumbled. 

“Nevermind, that we have to destroy the infested area.” The Captain said, “We have it contained in what you’d call…. ” he sighed again. “A forcefield. I hate saying that.”

The monitor in the front of the ship came online, there was an aerial view of Milworth and the surrounding area all in a cloud of blue and purple. It seemed to bump against an invisible something and bounce back into the center.

“I hate doing this.” The captain said, “But the infection percent is already over 90 in that area alone. If there are Gods or God, I hope they forgive us and see we did this for a good reason. We do this as galactic watchmen on behalf of the Celestial Chelonian federation.”

A transparent, green holographic screen appeared in front of his face and the faces of Frifaga, the tree, and the hippo? The captain pressed his fingers against the holographic screen for a few seconds. Then all four pressed a big green square in the middle. The monitor became blinding white, it burned Stan’s eyes and it lasted for five minutes or so it seemed. Both Rick and Stan looked away. When the light died down there was nothing where the town had been, no swirling blue-purple mist, no buildings either and Stan guessed no life other than waving trees, grass and bushes. 

“Are they?” Stan began.

“Yes.” Frifaga said, her lips never moving. “They are all dead, vaporized along with the Yarok, it’s the only way. Lt. Sssshhesss, please administer the memory erase beam.”

Stan thought of Ms. Patterson, he thought of Darla and the people in the bar, he thought of the town and the people, the animals, that suddenly, terrifyingly were all gone and soon to be wiped from memory. He put his chin down and tried, but failed to stop crying silently. He glanced over at Rick through the tears, Rick looked almost indifferent, but there was trace of sadness in his expression. Maybe? Stan didn’t know.

There was another flash of blue that spread over the entire map.

“No one for surrounding 100 miles will remember Milworth even existed,” The Captain said. 

“So you just give people the ole a-a-amnesia ray?” Rick said. “That’s real ethical.”

“You’re the cause of this and you gripe about Ethics?” The Captain growled. 

“Only solution on primitive worlds.” Said Frifaga. 

“Hey, I didn’t know this would happen!” Rick said. 

“And you think that’s a defense?” The Captain said. “You’d better hope the judge thinks so too.”

“Judge—wait…what?” Stan said. “Are we gonna be on trial?”

“He is,” The caption pointed a long grey finger at Rick. “You are innocent.”

“Well, if you think I’m leaving Rick’s side you gotta another thing com—“ Stan started.

The captain sighed. “Lt. Sssshhesss do the honors.”

There was a blinding flash of white….Stan woke up, his head hurt, he was in his jeans and t-shirt. laying down in some long grass. He had vague memory of something weird happening, he had no idea where he was or where the Stanleymobile was or for that matter what happened to Rick. Maybe Rick got taken to prison? But why? Drugs? And by whom? Eh, did it matter? He shook his head, but there was to much fog, like a hangover but with slightly less pain. Maybe the StanleyMobile was nearby. He heard cars nearby, he sat up. He was on the side of the road, near a ditch. He got to his feet, walked towards the road and put his thumb out. There were some motorcycles coming his way. He knew the man on first chopper, Jimmy Snakes... Stan smiled and Jimmy smiled back. Jimmy Snakes stopped, pulled over and Stan hopped on the back. So what if he was riding bitch, he was leaving here. Wherever it was.

**Author's Note:**

> (Just to be clear there is no Milworth IRL)


End file.
